


Absent Trepidation

by AlexNow



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Peter Pan Fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:31:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexNow/pseuds/AlexNow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">
    <i>“So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in Never Never Land!”</i>
  </span>
  <br/>
  <span class="small">― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan: Fairy Tales</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absent Trepidation

**-Lost Shadow-**

_They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven days they are sent far away to the Neverland to defray expanses. I'm captain. ―Peter Pan, Lost Boys_

_  
_

As Michael chews on a chocolate bar he steps into the large ballroom where Mrs. Way is currently frantically looking for her lost pearl necklace. The constant clicking of her heels echo through the lone neat room and Michael’s eyes look up at her with curiosity and he stares, awaiting for his mother to knowledge him. Once she turns around her eyes fall on the young boy’s form her eyes widen in horror.

  
“Michael!” She gasps, perfectly silky pale hand covering her mouth in dismay, “What have you done! You’re all covered in chocolate! I thought I left the box in the farthest cabinet up!”

  
Michael looks down to his dress pants and brown stained white shirt. He then looks up and shrugs, “You _did._ ” He says. Mrs. Way blinks.

  
“Then how on _earth_ did you reach it? Oh dear lord, you didn’t stand on the old crooked stool again, did you dear? You know how unstable it is! It can break and get you hurt!”

  
Michael is used to his mother having her anxiety attacks. Usually it happens when there are events about to occur in the house, much like in this occasion. She would yell at even the dog just to make sure everything is perfect. Once, at seeing a flower vase that weren’t in place, she broke down crying on the floor until Mr. Way came home and tried to calm her down.

  
“You didn’t, did you?” She asks again desperately, trying to reassure herself that Michael almost didn’t die (even though Michael is _pretty_ sure he could have survived a 7 inch fall).

  
“Gerard gave it to me.” Michael finally replies. He takes another bite of the bar and as he brings it down back to his side it strokes his shirt once more, leaving a dark trail of brown behind. Mrs. Way sighs and shakes her head.

  
Michael’s eyes follow uselessly as she takes the foiled candy from his hands and she gives it to a random servant passing by, waves him away. The man, perplexed, turns around and walks away with a last look towards them over his shoulder to the kitchen, where loud noises of pans and steam cut Michael’s ear.

  
“Well then, thus I’m sure your brother wouldn’t mind helping you get into a cleaner shirt. You are absolutely _filthy._ ” Mrs. Way huffs and slowly closes her eyes for a short second to sigh. Michael’s eyes fall on the door of the kitchen and she shakes her head.

  
“You can finish your chocolate bar later, Michael. Right now you need to get changed and make sure Gerard’s finished with his absurdities to get changed as well. You know how your grandmother is about blemishes on your clothes. We don’t want to upset her.”

  
Michael narrows his eyes on her when she calls Gerard’s reading _absurdities._ They are not, at all. It’s thanks to Gerard’s storytelling at night that Michael has stopped having nightmares when it‘s time to go to sleep. Mrs. Way doesn’t know this, of course. She’s too busy making sure Mr. Way comes home from work with enough money to make sure they have food and a roof over their heads.

  
“Nanny doesn’t care.” Michael says defiantly, head tilted back and nose obnoxiously high, his eyes staring right at her from the bottom of his glasses. The bright light of the chandeliers on the ceiling kind of hurt his eyes but he’s not backing down from whatever he’s talking about with his mother. Being picked at school for being a ‘freak’ and the believing of people thinking he is poor just because he chooses to wear only old clothes to school has shown him many things. Mostly things his older brother has taught him.

  
_“Don’t let them know we’re rich. You’ll only be picked on even more. It’s not safe.”_

  
Michael of course, does what he asked. Not that Michael _always_ does what his older brother instructs, but in this situation he knows Gerard can’t be wrong.

  
_“Be yourself, don’t take anyone’s shit, and never, Mikey, **never** let them take you alive.”_

  
Mikey doesn’t like his full name. Therefore he lets people he likes call him something shorter. Gerard thought of it, of course. Mikey remembers staying up late in their dark room with Gerard in the bed next to him, murmuring nicknames they could give Michael.

  
_“How about ‘Mikey’?” Gerard had said. Mikey’s lips twitched upwards in the darkness as he tried to see through the tall wall._

  
_“I like it.”_

  
Elena didn’t like it at first. She still doesn’t, but she tolerates it much better, with one condition. In front of all those business people in suits and briefcases they must politely shake hands and smile, call each other by their full names.

  
Either way, Mikey has just told his mother Nanny Elena doesn’t care.

  
They both know it’s a lie though. Elena is mostly obsessed with good morals, clean grandchildren and a good impression on important people. This is their moment to do all of them at once, especially the last. Michael doesn’t really understand all these stuff about business and commerce but he understands some of the men that are coming to the house have great deals to give Mr. Way. They have to be convinced, though. And that is one of the reasons Elena is coming over. She’s here to help Mr. Harold Way help, because they all know Elena always has control over any situation.

  
“Go on, Michael. Go to your room and tell Gerard to help you get the inky shirt you wore to aunt Gerium’s wedding.” She gently turns him around and pushes him in the direction of the wooden stairs, where a woman in the black and white house waitress uniform is struggling with a silver platter with cups of tea and dirty tablecloths stained tan.

  
Mikey sighs but does as told, slumps as he goes up the stairs. He dodges the lady and continues his way up through the endless steps that creak under his black polished shoes. He really hates these occasions. Mrs. Way glares at him.

  
“Stand straight! I don’t want you slouching at the party today or hiding like a hermit again in your room inside your closet. You made a fool out of your father last time!” She shouts, perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowing at him. Mikey grimaces, because she must be really upset to let her forehead crease. She says she gets more wrinkles each time she does.

  
“Sure.” He mutters in response. He ignores the glances of the men who are in charge of moving the coffee table into the top of the house. The place whom Mikey has always seen shaped like a tower.

  
Being young and full of imagination, Gerard and Mikey, had took advantage of this by playing pirates breaking into the king’s castle to steal the gold. Then Mikey would demand a unicorn come flying in to help them carry all the gems back to their ship to sail away. Gerard would shrug and readjust his eye patch just enough so the ribbon streaking his forehead would feel as if it weren’t digging into his skin again. “Okay,” he would say.

  
When Mikey reaches the neat door he sighs and turns the bullion doorknob carved with blossoms decorating the edges. The first thing he hears when he steps into the messy room (that one of the servants had just sorted but Mikey had taken the chance to re-mess) with bed covers stretched on the carpeted floor is the sound of a page turning. He ignores the sound at first and immediately goes to his bed to throw himself on the cushion and plaster his face in the soft pillow.

  
“I don’t want to meet any more strangers just to get dad a chance of winning even more money, “ Mikey starts, voice muffled into the silk, “We’ve got enough, I don’t understand why we need more toys or mom needs more expensive dresses.”

  
There’s the sound of shuffling near Mikey and then of something hard being put down on the bedside table, like a hard cover book. Mikey recognizes the creaking of a door as the closet being opened, or closed. Most likely the second.

  
“Don’t know. Maybe it’s just the appearances mom keeps trying to keep. It’s as if she has to show the world we aren’t low class by wearing _Hubert Givenchy_ and keeps buying us useless toys as if she expects us to go running to school with a bag full of them to show off.” Gerard’s voice is clearly irritated by the tone he’s using, and Mikey could practically hear the slight shrug in his voice. It’s the way Gerard masks his infuriation with insignificance.

  
Mikey knows him enough to know the difference, though. After all, he’s known him ever since Mikey was born, and that was eleven years ago. Gerard, being three years older, thinks he’s old enough to fool Mikey. Mikey just thinks its plain stupid. Gerard may be older, perhaps even wiser, but he’s still as smart as a blockhead.

  
“Mom hopes you stopped reading an hour ago to get ready to meet the visitors,” Mikey says instead, now facing the ceiling and his middle finger pushing his glasses up his nose as he studies the cupola tiles’ designs, “And she got annoyed that I got this shirt chocolate stained.”

  
Gerard sighs and nods, finally grabbing the book he had put on the bedside stand and carefully putting it in the drawer before closing it. “There. It won’t distract me anymore.” He says with a tone of determination. Mikey frowns and hums as he gets on his feet on his approach to the closet.

  
“Right.” He mutters, and throws the clandestine behind his closet open. Gerard’s glare can be felt on the back of his head but Mikey shrugs it off. They both know it won’t be long before Gerard runs back up to grab his book in the middle of the party and locks himself in the bathroom.

 

 

Three hours later Gerard is uncomfortably tugging on the end up his itchy dressing pants as they watch older people in tuxedos and expensive dresses laughing and waving their hands around with peach and lime daiquiris and seeming to feel as they belong here. In the Way household pretending they could do what the hell they want. The Way brothers just want peace and quiet so they could get their wooden swords and fight one another until they fall asleep on the floor.

  
Mikey purses his lips and stops himself from taking his coat off even though the heat is enough to have the ice statue on the table melt in five minutes. He knows his mother wouldn’t be happy.

  
Instead, as Mr. Way places his palms on his back after he stands behind them they stand still frozen and face the tall man in front of them while trying not to glare at the guest. This is not what they want, now or ever. Believe it or not, it gets tiring having to play pretend. Pretend they are well-behaved children who do as their told and act like any other high-classed kid is supposed to act. Nose high in the air (always, not only when they are annoyed much like Gerard and Mikey) and looking down at anyone who has much of a dollar less than them.

  
Mikey almost flinches as he seeing through the gap between the man’s arm and side a waiter struggle and almost trip as he carries some empty drinking glasses and others filled with stinking expensive champagne Mrs. Way had said was necessary. A woman gives him an annoyed look and huffs before walking away and glaring at him. Elena sees and scowls. She walks over to him and her mouth moves rapidly. It’s obviously she’s yelling at him. The man looks petrified and quickly nods before hurrying away.

  
The hand that squeezes his shoulder brings him back to reality, though, to the man that’s staring at him curiously and Mikey blinks.

  
“Mr. Schechter, these are my two sons. The eldest one is Gerard and this is Michael, he’s eleven years old,” He tells the man who’s smiling kindly. Then Mr. Way turns to them and gives them a silent stern stare, “Kids, this is Brian Schechter. He comes from the big enterprise in California I told you two about.”

  
Mr. Way probably knows that Mikey and Gerard don’t understand what the hell he’s talking about but he pretends his children are smarter than they really are. Mikey almost glares because _he doesn’t care._ Instead, they put on plastic smiles and greet while shaking hands.

  
“Pleased to meet you, sir.” They say in unison.

  
**-.-.-**

  
“Grandmother fired another one tonight. Maybe even three,” Gerard says at night as they lay in silence in the darkness. They had not said anything since they went to bed but the silence is enough to know they are both awake, “It’s hard to keep track with all the times this has happened.”

  
Mikey frowns and turns his back to Gerard, who could barely be seen through the moonlight. Gerard doesn’t move, just stares outside where he can see far, far away a family of three shivering in the cold. The homeless. Perhaps this time no one is bleeding onto the concrete. It’s extremely hard to tell, but Gerard could all but hope.

  
“I don’t want to talk about that,” Mikey finally says, and tucks his hands under his pillow where his head rests. They hate how their egotistic family is half the reason there are people begging for jobs around town, “Tell me more stories.”

  
“More?” Gerard asks, smiling slightly (but only enough to see his lips twitch upwards), “What story do you want me to tell you?”

  
Mikey shifts in his bed once again and this time he’s facing his older brother again, Gerard’s black hair shining in a dark blue with the moonbeam. He doesn’t comment anything for a long while, thinking profusely over what to say. Gerard is patient and knows that they have the time of the world. Neither of them is going anywhere anytime soon.

  
“Peter Pan.” Mikey finally responds, voice cracking only a small bit as he tries to talk in a tone between a whisper and normal voice. Gerard isn’t surprised one bit with Mikey’s choice. It’s the same as always. The only difference is the story, even though Gerard could never understand why every time Mikey takes _such_ a long time to say it as if he were actually _considering_ it.

  
“Would you like to pick a story?” He asks, tilts his head towards the left to meet Mikey’s eyes which are wide and waiting.

  
“I want to hear about how he cut off Captain Hook’s hand off again.” Mikey immediately responds, smile teasing the corner of his lips and ready to anxiously hear the flowing words pour out of Gerard’s mouth.

  
It’s just the simple way Gerard tells every tale that he can’t help but look forward to every night. Every now and then Gerard would tell a new story, about how Peter went down to Mermaid Lagoon and found Mr. Smee helping the Captain reel in one of the young ladies as she cried for help. Or when the Lost Boys accidentally drew in one of the Indians which were hunting their food. Other times Mikey would just ask for Gerard to repeat one of the stories he loved of the day before. It doesn’t matter. It’d always cause the same reaction to Mikey.

  
“Well then,” Mikey demands when Gerard pauses for a second too long, “What happens next?”

  
Not that Mikey doesn’t know, but Gerard has to _say_ it or there’s no use in listening to the tale if you aren’t able to hear the imitations of Captain Hook’s cry for help.

  
“Smee, Smee. Oh Smee!” Gerard cries, arms flailing around himself as he replicates Captain Hook’s voice, “Help me, Smee! He’s here! The ticking, I can’t _take_ it!”

  
Mikey grins and sits up with his legs crosses, staring at Gerard across the room to catch his every move, every sound. Gerard continues bawling in a deep voice, until his voice suddenly changes into the one he uses when he gets sick and his nose gets clogged, “I’m going, sir! _I’ll_ save you!”

  
The door suddenly opens and the hallway light beams into the dark room, making both boys squint their eyes as the radiance burns into their sight. In walks Mrs. Way, sighing and looking tired. When she sees them in fact completely awake she shakes her head and walks to Mikey to grabs him by the arms.

  
“Both of you are supposed to be asleep,” She says with the sound of weariness and complaint mixed in her voice, “It’s already ten o’clock at night and tomorrow your grandmother might come again to have dinner with us to celebrate Gerard’s birthday.”

  
Mikey protests as she brings him under the covers and forces the covers on top of him and tucked under his form to warm him up completely. After all, Manhattan gets really cold in the spring.

  
“But, mother, the story isn’t finished yet!” Mikey yells, being complete at loss and fretful for the ending of tonight’s tale.

  
“Story?” Mrs. Way repeats, seeming surprised and taking her hands from being placed on Mikey’s shoulders. She turns around to where Gerard is staring at them with eyes pending and apathetic, “Gerard! I thought I told you to stop filling your brother’s head with all those silly stories!” She scowls.

  
Gerard frowns as he takes notice of what she said and shakes his head. “Oh, but they are not silly, mother. They are tales which have once been true, though maybe not tonight or in a long time.”

  
Mrs. Way decides it’s useless arguing with her soon-to-be fourteen year old son, since he’s hard to get through. She swears he got that from his father. Instead she orders Gerard to get in bed properly with a firm fleeting look and stands up to walk with the noise of her shoes hitting soft ground towards the window. The rasp of the window seems to get Mikey’s attention and he swirls around in bed, making the sheets turn into a large turmoil and fall onto the ground. Mikey doesn’t seem to care, of course. In behalf of his attention, his wide eyes are on the large window.

  
“Don’t close the window! He might be back!” He shouts. Mrs. Way freezes.

  
“ _He?_ ” She asks, eyes surprised staring outside. Gerard turns his head to see Mikey looking at their mother, seeming truly alarmed. Gerard hopes Mikey feels his curious stare but Mikey’s too into protecting the windowpane to notice anything else.

  
“Yes. Peter Pan,” Mikey responds, “I’m sure he’s coming tonight.”

  
Mrs. Way clenches her jaw and hastily whirls her head to face Gerard, glares at him as if to say _‘See what you cause, **now?’**_ and Gerard shrugs. It’s not _his_ fault. There’s nothing wrong with telling a couple tales, tales he gets the idea of by reading the books. Ever since reading _Peter Pan_ he started getting more and more ideas for more stories about Peter’s adventures. Mikey, on impulse, loved hearing of flying with pixie dust right away and insisted Gerard tells him more every night. It’s Mikey who chooses to believe all of it.

  
She finally sighs. “Alright, I’ll leave it open. Michael, if you get too cold at night wake up your brother. He knows where the extra blankets are.”

  
Mikey nods and sighs before yanking the sheets from the ground and messily covering himself with them. Mrs. Way doesn’t even bother to tuck him in again. She’s too tired with today. Gerard pretends to already be asleep when she closes the door with a last glance at her two sons.

  
He doesn’t try to explain to Mikey there’s no Peter Pan anywhere near here. It’d just be a waste of time.

  
“Night, Michael.” Gerard mumbles as he’s already half asleep. Mikey hums in reply to let him know he heard. At the reassurance that Mikey is indeed still alive and breathing, Gerard slips into unconsciousness.

 

_“Quick! We don’t want to wake anyone!”_

  
Gerard sighs into sleep and positions his head so he can’t hear any more noise and go easily back to his slumber. The commotion, though, seems to be going nowhere and becomes louder, especially the thud of wood grazing solid material. Then it’s as if someone were carrying bells, moving rapidly and making them jingle.

  
_“Quiet down now! We don’t have much time and we don’t want to misuse it.”_ The same voice says again, as if talking to someone else.

  
It’s until Gerard hears the familiar sound of his book dropping to the ground that he realizes the sound is in fact coming from _inside_ his room. Gerard’s eyes snap open and he freezes, praying to god that the assassin that is most likely looking for money doesn’t realize he’s awake. The bells sound again and a sigh follows.

  
_“Of course we can’t, Tink! We’ve already caused enough trouble in this house. I don’t think bothering Mikey will help us or him anymore. Let him sleep.”_

  
Gerard sees a shadow tiptoeing across Mikey’s sleeping form and Gerard’s eyes widen because there is no one the shadow belongs to. No one causing it. And how does this person know his brother’s name? Has Mikey talked to him? Gerard rather not know.

  
_“Aha! There ‘e goes!”_

  
Then Gerard sees a small body running after the shadow, trying frantically to catch it. What surprises Gerard most, though, is how the boy (because he really can’t be any older than Gerard himself) manages to get hold of one of its feet.

  
“Can’t go anywhere _now_ , ‘ey?” The boy says, proud. As the shadow begins to kick and turn and grasp the carpet below their feet, the boy drags him to the other side of the room. Then Gerard notices the small ball of light floating aside of the boy’s head, and once the small light reflects on the boy’s face Gerard notices the green hat perched on the top of his head with a red feather stuck onto it.

  
He immediately straightens up in bed and sits on the cushion, overly aware of Mikey’s chest rising and falling back down in a calm rhythm indicating he’s in a peaceful sleep. The boy swirls around and the glow of light shows his eyes are narrowed in suspicion.

  
“And who are ya?” The boy asks, hands on hips and challenging Gerard with a simple stare. Gerard stays quiet for a long moment and doesn’t respond, but then the bells are heard again and the ball swivels in a small circle. The boy glances at her and gives her a nod before turning back to Gerard.

  
“Well, mate? Ya got a name or not?” He questions again and seems to get impatient. Gerard blinks and slowly nods.

  
“My name’s Gerard. Gerard Way…” Gerard responds carefully, “Are you really Peter Pan?” It’s not really a question, but more like a statement. There’s no use in asking if Gerard already knows the answer.

  
“Gerard Way, eh?” Peter Pan repeats with a raised eyebrow, “I know ya. You’re Mikey’s brother. He talks a lot about you, you know. Says you talk about _me_ all the time. That’s why I come here. To hear what you say. Nice tales you got there, by the way. Got some details wrong but there’s nothing to worry about.”

  
Peter is still holding his shadow in one hand, and it keeps trying to kick Peter’s hand with his other foot without much success but Peter doesn’t acknowledge it. As if the shadow that seems to have to owner weren’t there.

  
“How do you know Mikey?” Gerard demands, eyebrows furrowed. He stands up from the bed and walks over where Pan is, towering him. Peter shrugs.

  
“I was flying through around here one day. Mikey just about was sitting by the window. When he saw me he started yelling my name and so on. The story continues,” He shrugs, “He’s a nice kid. Says he can’t go with me to Neverland until you’re ready to meet me and go with him. Doesn’t want to leave you behind.”

  
Gerard doesn’t think much about Mikey planning to visit Neverland and avoids the thought of wondering why he has to ‘be ready’ to meet Peter Pan. Gerard doesn’t find it a big deal. Yes, Peter Pan is real and he pretty much confirmed that Gerard’s tales are half true but there’s nothing too huge. Besides the fact that just maybe there is a giant dragon flying around somewhere with the Tooth Fairy after it or something of that kind.

  
“I don’t mean to offend anyone,” Gerard says, because that’s what his parents taught him to do before he voiced out his opinion, “But I don’t think calling Mikey a _‘kid’_ is appropriate. He surely is older than you.”

  
Peter’s eyes widen and he then scowls and frowns once again. The small ball of light, that is unmistakably Tinkerbell herself, turns around Gerard’s head and the rapid speed in front of Gerard’s eyes makes him dizzy. Peter crosses his arm and tries to stare him down.

  
“Older than me? Ha! You wish!” Peter yells, snorts mockingly, “Mikey‘s eleven, right? Well then, I‘m thirteen and the leader of the Lost Boys!”

  
Gerard blinks and doesn’t say anything for a long while, just staring at Peter’s small form, Peter’s hands on his hips and trying to seem superior. “You seem a lot smaller.”

  
“You think so?” Peter asks, “And how old are _you?”_

  
“I‘m going to be fourteen tomorrow. This is my last night here with Mikey,” Gerard adds the last part sadly, eyes staring at the ground below him barely seeing the white tiles under his bare feet in the dark, “My mother doesn‘t like the idea of ‘filling Mikey’s mind with irrationality’, as she puts it.”

  
When Gerard finally spares a glance up he sees Peter’s dark eyes widen in surprise while Tinkerbell pulls at one of his eyelashes. Peter swats her away and shakes his head frantically, as if not wanting to believe what Gerard has just said. At a closer looks to Tinkerbell, Gerard sees her huff and cross her arms angrily at being blown off.

  
“You‘re going away?!” Peter exclaims, and Gerard tenses a bit at hearing the ruffling of sheets. A sign of Mikey stirring in his sleep, “You can‘t leave! That means there would be no more stories!”

  
Gerard sighs and nods, lowering his head so his chin grazes his chest, a fringe of his black hair dipping into his eye, and he tries not to think of the possibility of his parents moving him up to one of the room farthest of Mikey’s just so they are sure Gerard doesn’t sneak to Mikey’s room at night, which Gerard had actually planned on doing.

  
“No.” Peter finally says defiantly, and Gerard blinks before lighting up his lamp of his bedside table.

  
“Huh?”

  
Peter frowns and crosses his arms, much like Tinkerbell has (her back now faced to Peter and seeming to be truly annoyed), “You are _not_ growing up. I‘m not letting you.”

  
Gerard frowns, because it’s not something that you can _actually_ avoid. There’s no way to delay the fact that Gerard’s going to grow up and become more of a teenager. Unless, of course, we must not forget that Peter Pan must believe that there is--

  
Gerard’s thoughts halt all at once as a thought enters his mind, his eyes searching through Peter’s dark brown.

  
“Neverland?” Gerard whispers, as if it were a cursed word that must not be heard from no one. A grin slowly spreads across Peter’s face and suddenly he’s grabbing Gerard’s arm.

  
“C‘mon, Gerard!” He says enthusiastically, “Tink! Wake up Mikey, we‘re going to Neverland!”

  
“What?!” Gerard yells, but before he could process anything he’s being pulled towards the balcony and soon he’s grabbing the door.

  
“Are you crazy!” Gerard practically screams, and is glad the house is too huge for his parents to hear him panic, “If you throw me over the terrace I‘ll _die!”_

  
Peter suddenly lets go of Gerard’s arm to tap his chin thoughtfully, and Gerard falls to the ground of the balcony gasping for air and trying to calm down the beat of his heart. Suddenly Mikey emerges from the doors with Tinkerbell on his shoulder. He’s rubbing his eyes with his fists sleepily and yawning.

  
“I thought you weren‘t coming tonight,” He says between yawns, “And that Tinkerbell was just my imagination. I‘m glad you‘re here, though.”

  
Peter’s grin once again appears and with the beam of the moonlight his dark long black hair even seems to shine with an inhuman gleam, but once Mikey manages to see clearly and tries not to let his eyelids droop he doesn’t seem fazed. Then, his eyes fall on his older brother.

  
“Gee?” He asks, seeming surprised and even a bit pleased. Gerard grumbles, though, and stands up to dust the front of his pants. He looks up and glares at Peter. Peter, though, seems indifferent. He’s still smiling and looking as if it were Christmas morning, after all.

  
“Well, then, Mike?” Peter repeats, “You ready to go to the Neverlands or aren‘t ya?”

  
Mikey, in response, smiles slightly back and walks over to Gerard he lightly shove his shoulder playfully. Gerard looks up and sees Mikey wiping his glasses and sliding them up his nose. Gerard shrugs and turns away to look over his shoulder over the bright lights of the city. Mikey turns back to Peter and grins.

 

“What did you say we have to do in order to not fall off the top of the house and die?” Gerard asks dryly, eyes fixed on Peter.

  
“Frank‘s already said that more than twice.” Mikey tells him with a roll of his eyes. Gerard furrows his eyebrows in confusion and tilts his head in Mikey‘s direction as he's crouched down beside his bed, looking for his shoes.

  
“Who‘s Frank?” He asks. Mikey frowns and turns to the boy aside of him.

  
“You haven‘t told him?” Mikey says. Peter laughs and shows a row of straight white teeth.

  
“What can I say? It kind of passed through my mind and disappeared as soon as I thought it,” Then he turns around and tells Gerard, “Call me Frank, by the way. I hate it when people call me Peter Pan. I feel more like a fairytale than anything _real._  Frank's my real human name, after all. It‘s confusing but ya‘ll get used to it.”

  
Gerard blinks and doesn’t say anything, just stares at Mikey and then back to _Frank,_ “So, how do we go to Neverland again?”

 

 

“Here,” Frank says as he grabs the back of Tinkerbell’s dress and pulls her towards him. The sound of bells chining rapidly indicate that Tinkerbell’s yelling in protest. You don’t need to understand her like Frank does to know that, “You just need a bit of pixie dust, that‘s all. Oh! And happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts and then…”

  
He trails off and stretches his arms wide aside of him, left hand still clutching at Tinkerbell who is visibly still kicking, “You‘ll fly!” Frank finishes. Mikey rolls his eyes and grabs Tinkerbell, causing another round of bells in complaint.

  
Mikey then begins tapping Tinkerbell’s back with his pointer finger and some golden powder falls all over Mikey’s body as Tinkerbell proceeds to slap Mikey’s finger (which is really the size of Tinkerbell‘s whole body).

  
Gerard just silently takes it all in and Frank grabs Tinkerbell (by now Gerard‘s feeling terribly bad for her) and then shakes her brutally over Gerard, and this time Tinkerbell’s growing livid, judging by the fact that she’s turning a bright red.

  
“There.” Frank says, then lets go of the small pixie. Gerard sighs and nods in thanks, and walks towards the balcony to stand on the railing.  
“Hey, Gerard! Wait!” Frank yells with shocked eyes, “Don‘t you want to try it out first? See if you‘re capable of flying?”

  
Gerard grimaces and shakes his head, “Nah. Let‘s just try this out.”

  
“Are you sure?” It’s Mikey asking now, and seeming to be if only a bit worried. The tip of Gerard’s lips turn up and he lets out a laugh, if only short and barely noticeable.

  
“Of course. Why not?”

  
Gerard jumps off the balcony and, guess what? He flies.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't believe I'll continue this. I don't know if there will be a Frank/Gerard pairing. I don't know. If anyone wants to continue this, you are free to do so. (: I'd love to read it from your own point of view of what is to happen.


End file.
